Rum and Sunrises
by Sabre1
Summary: Mark and Roger spend an evening on the roof. Second place winner at LJ's MiscFicChall community for Challenge 1.


It was another bitterly cold New York Monday and evening was quickly approaching. Roger was sitting on the couch across from me and we were both bored out of our minds and depressed as hell that Collins had just left for yet another teaching gig out of state. Neither of us wanted to say it, but we were afraid we would never see him again. Roger seemed to be taking it especially hard.

I knew part of our problem, but Roger's especially, came from Mimi's death still being so fresh in our minds. She had never recovered from that December night last year and it was a matter of months before she finally passed away. I think I was more relieved than anything else when she was gone, as much as I hated to admit it. We had spent so much time in that fucking hospital when Angel was sick that going to visit Mimi was tearing _that_ wound open all over again.

Roger had taken it hard, but I think it helped that he was expecting it to come. He had been there at the end, holding her almost identically to the way Collins had held Angel when she had passed away. She had told Roger something, though no one had heard it but him. He had held it together completely until that point, not once showing sadness or fear. She had to fight to get the words out and he had nodded, the tears beginning to run silently down his face, and he pulled her close to him the same way he had when she was laying on the table in our loft. And then she was gone.

I sat there, feeling so fucking helpless, not able to cry. I couldn't let myself cry or be sad. I had to be the strong one. Over a year after Angels death and I still hadn't cried about that. I couldn't get myself to cry about Mimi, as much as I wanted to. I just wanted to feel something. I felt almost dead inside. And I was trying to push away the thoughts about the fact that Collins probably had little time left and Roger wouldn't be around forever. I couldn't let those thoughts come to the surface so I pushed them down, the way I pushed down everything else.

I was sitting on the couch, fiddling with my camera. I hadn't filmed anything since _Today 4 U: Proof Positive_ had been completed. That hadn't really come of anything, just a nice memoir of an incredible year. Roger was idly strumming through various songs, not really paying attention to what he was doing. I looked over at him, desperate to do something to get the thoughts of Angel and Mimi and AIDS and death out of my head.

"Hey. You wanna get out of here for a little while?" My tone was pleading but I didn't care enough to cover it.

He looked up, mild surprise covering his face. I'm sure he had been having the same thoughts I was. "Anything particular in mind?"

I shrugged, "Anything other than sitting here doing nothing. Why don't we get some drinks and sit on the roof or something?"

Roger smirked, "Mark Cohen wants to drink? This is a first." He stood up, laying his guitar against the couch. "Sounds good." He stretched and stood up, obviously ready to go.

"I need to grab my scarf." I knew it would be freezing outside and I really didn't feel up to catching a cold or the flu or something equally as miserable. I went into my bedroom and looked around, the scarf no where in sight. Ten minutes had passed before I got really frustrated. "Shit," I breathed out. I heard Roger walk up to the door frame.

"Problem?"

"Yeah, I can't find my scarf. You know, the blue and white one?"

He shrugged and reached out his hand towards me, long green fabric hanging from it. "Use mine."

I shook my head. I didn't want him to go out without a scarf. His immune system was way more important that mine. "I'll be fine. Let's just go." I began walking out of the room. I stopped when his hand met my shoulder.

"Mark, you're 100 pounds soaking wet. Take the scarf. You need it more than I do."

I couldn't really argue with him, knowing how stubborn he was. So I took it, wrapping it around my neck several times with a good portion of the scarf still hanging down. Roger couldn't suppress his grin. "You look like a little kid." The scarf smelled like him.

I gave him a 'fuck you' face and walked to the front door, smiling softly to myself but grateful that he couldn't see it. I hadn't seen Roger smile like that in months. It was nice.

We walked to the Food Emporium and back, buying some cheap rum and a two liter of Coke. Neither of us said very much, just enjoying one another's company and the nice, if not freezing, evening.

I went into the loft and grabbed two glasses before going out onto the fire escape and onto the roof. Roger was waiting for me when I finished climbing up the iron staircase. He was leaning over the ledge, watching the cars and people go by, cigarette in hand. He glanced back at me and then went back to staring at the street. I poured two drinks and handed one to him. He looked at the drink thoughtfully for a minute before downing it all.

"I'm going to kill myself if I try to keep up with you." I shook my head and took a drink out of my own cup, ignoring the urge to spit it out. I had never really liked the taste of alcohol and drinking anything harder than beer made my throat close up.

He shrugged. "Then don't." I ignored his attitude. It hadn't been great since we had lost Mimi and I wasn't really expecting much. He poured himself another drink. Roger may have had a much higher tolerance than I did, but I knew it wouldn't be long before he was very drunk if he kept this pace up. "Besides," he looked over at me, "you won't need much."

I nodded and took another drink. He didn't say anything. And the silence was killing me. I wanted to have fun, let go for a little while. Not just stand on the roof freezing and getting drunk.

I walked over to where he was standing, leaning over the ledge with him. We stood that way for a long while, not saying a word to one another. Exactly as Roger had predicted, it wasn't long before I was feeling a good buzz going. My cup was empty and I made myself a second drink, noticing how empty the rum bottle was suddenly. I looked over at Roger and noticed the glazed look in his eyes. I had stopped paying attention to how many drinks he had consumed. I also realized he was sort of hugging himself, shivering.

I unwrapped his dark green scarf from my neck and handed it to him. "Here." He looked at it for a moment before accepting it and wrapping it around his own neck.

"Thanks." He continued looking at me, as if trying to come up with the words for what was on his mind.

"Rog…" He was weirding me out. He never stared at me like that.

He smiled to himself and let out a dry laugh. "Sorry, Marky. Didn't mean to freak you out."

I shook my head and took another drink. The alcohol was going down easier now, my thoughts becoming random and jumbled. "It's fine." My voice sounded heavy and I knew I was drunk. I wanted to know what he was thinking. "What's going through that blonde head of yours, anyways?" I knew it sounded stupid, but my drunk mind didn't care. Mimi had convinced him to cut and die his hair blonde again, the way it had been in some of his posters.

He shrugged. "Same shit as always. Angel, Mimi, my mortality."

I nodded. "I'll drink to that." I raised my glass up in a mock toast and downed the contents of the cup. I looked back up at Roger and saw him staring at me again, his eyes full of tears. "Hey…" I felt awkward. He rarely showed much emotion anymore.

"Mark… God… I miss her so fucking much." Saying it aloud must have set something off in him because the tears were flowing freely now. I reached out awkwardly for his shoulder, not knowing what to do. I was never good at the whole comforting other people thing. He pulled me into a hug. I patted his back, still unsure of what to do.

"There was so much we didn't do together. So much we didn't see." He cried into my shoulder. I hugged him, trying to be the same pillar of strength I always was. It was hard to see him break down like that.

A few moments passed with us standing like that and he broke away, wiping his eyes and smiling apologetically. "Sorry."

I shook my head. "Don't be sorry, Rog." I looked down sheepishly. "To be honest I've been waiting for that."

He gave a watery laugh, "Yeah. Me too." He turned around and sat on the roof, his back against the ledge, and stared up at the sky. I followed suit and watched as he grabbed the half empty bottle of run and drink straight out of it. He handed it to me and I drank out of it as well, not minding the taste.

We went back and forth with the bottle, reminiscing about old times and getting very drunk. Sharing stories about our life and the people who had come and gone. For once Roger was talking about Mimi openly, sharing things I never knew or hadn't heard before. He was silent for a moment, staring up at the sky. He turned to look at me, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Do you know what Mimi said to me right before she died?"

I shook my head. I had always wondered but respected Roger too much to ask.

"She said, 'Don't stop living. Whatever you do. Keep on going for me.' " He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, as if what he had just done had taken a lot of effort. He went to take another drink from the bottle and realized it was empty. Roger made a disgusted face and tossed the bottle to the side. He looked back at me again, his face difficult to read. "I almost stopped living, Mark. I came so close to just offing myself like April did. But her words came back to me and I couldn't do it."

I couldn't think of anything to say, Rogers heavy words weighing on my mind. I wanted to do _something_ so I put my arm around Rogers shoulders, pulling him close. Roger leaned his head back against the cold concrete and looked at the sky, the darkness turning into dusky blues.

We sat that way and watched the sun come up over the horizon, the buildings black against the powerful pinks and oranges.

"You know… As long as I've lived in New York this is my first time staying awake all night for a sunrise."

"Yeah," I said. "Pretty amazing stuff." I saw Roger nod out of the corner of my eye. My drunk was wearing off but I didn't mind. I had just experienced one of the best nights in a long time. I moved my arm and put it in my lap, not wanting to over step my bounds as friend.

We waited for the sun to come up before staggering half drunk back to the loft. Roger almost fell down the fire escape and I had to grab him from behind. We both walked inside, laughing, our cheeks pink from the sudden rise in temperature. I collapsed onto the couch, a goofy grin on my face. Roger did the same on the other couch.

"We should do this more often." He closed his eyes, drifting off to sleep. Not even bothering to remove the green scarf still wrapped around his neck.

"Yeah…" I wasn't even sure if I said it out loud. Sleep overcame me quickly and I had no dreams.


End file.
